It’s Here—The Cover Art!
WRITING OUR WAY HOME: A GROUP JOURNEY OUT OF HOMELESSNESS
(THE BOOK)
Photos from Our Trip
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Selected photos of our trip from in Central Europe
Our Very Own Banner
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I cannot be at the Wednesday morning church service this week where “art” is defined as crosses made from chip bags thrown into the streets of the neighborhood, but I’m there nonetheless.
I stab my thumb with my needle, and I’m remembering the suggestions for images to include on our new banner: an eagle, World...
Spinning Plates, or The Writing Life
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Thank you to my friend and neighbor Susan Cushman for tagging me at Pen and Palette to answer some questions about my writing. If you don’t follow Susan’s blog, go take a look. Susan blogs regularly on writing, mental health, and faith; her post on Shrinking the Monsters discusses her own writing process. Susan is a wonderful supporter of...
Grandparent Love
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We sat on the flat rock by the shore of Lake Pontchartrain dropping pebbles into the water-filled crevice of the rock while we watched the red ball of the sun drop swiftly—it’s disappearing as we watch!—into the blue clouds, rounded as mountains.
As Tom and I said our goodbyes, Aubrey said, “I had fun dropping pebbles into the...
Join with me in prayer
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Please enjoy this wonderful prayer poem from John Thomas Dodds
The Ramones and Me
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I didn’t run with a crowd that liked the Ramones. I didn’t run with much of a crowd at all. During that period of my life, I was on my own emotionally, completing my schooling, being very functional in my choices. Not so for my music. Inside those idiosyncratic choices there lived the Ramones.
I heard it and I loved it....
Why I Want to Publish
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It took an obituary.
As I’ve been pondering my writing journey, several people have asked me questions about my desire to get my work published. The thought-provoking questions have included, “You’ve written something you are proud of, is that not enough?” “But you enjoy the act of writing itself, right?”...
I’m Bogged and I Know It
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It’s hard to live in a place where you know you’re failing.
When I first started writing, all my writing teachers gushed over my work. Rare voice, they said. True gift, they opined. Literary journals I admired–like the Chicago Review—sent me notes saying, we’re not taking this piece but we know we’re going to be reading about you in the...
July 4th at My House
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The breeze blows through the open windows
Letting in the Breeze
The fountain plays
Wind chimes add hidden notes
Creatures still
Waiting on the Saint
Inside the fan whirls
and we peer through screens at the wider world
It’s hard to capture shadow
and light
Peace is easy
Tonight we’ll watch the fireworks from the...